Pick Up The Pieces, They're All We Have
by LSgrimm91
Summary: He didn't honestly expect to see her after all this time.  The war had been over for more than five years and while they'd amiably conversed at the reunions, he never thought he'd find her at a conference in Washington DC. Hawkeye/Margaret


**A/Ramble: It has bugged me at work and now while fishing. Nothing is sacred, apparently. My first Mash fic, and probably only, since I normally do Stargate (and will be returning to that after this). Hopefully won't shame myself. Much. Feedback most welcome. Mistakes are mine, if there are many. Hopefully not. Enjoy!**

**~ Pick up the pieces, they're all we have ~**

He didn't honestly expect to see her after all this time. The war had been over for more than five years and while they'd amiably conversed at the reunions, he never thought he'd find her at a conference in Washington DC.

But it was what it was. As soon as Margaret walked into the room, Ben 'Hawkeye' Peirce swore he could sense it. It could have been the lingering scent of her distantly familiar perfume or the sound of her voice over the crowd of almost one hundred and twenty veteran nurses and doctors. The sign didn't matter. He just felt the drop of his stomach that he'd grown accustomed to whenever he spent too much time thinking about her.

And thought about her he had. He'd frequently reminisce about the family he'd had in Korea, but she never fit into that idea as well as the others. While he fondly remembered BJ and Trapper like brothers and maybe Potter as a father, Margaret was never like a sister to him.

When he thought of her, she seemed real and raw; it took him a few years to come to terms with the fact that, unlike many of the nurses he'd fooled around with, he actually loved her. It was a twisted, unrequited kind of love born in their personal version of Hell. It was a strange thought, especially for him, but she was the only one he could ever see himself married to, despite the conflicts in personalities. However, again, it was what it was.

He genuinely felt for her and she was as untouchable now too him as she was then. This time he had no one to blame but himself. He could have called, or written.

He pulled at the hem of his tuxedo jacket and scanned the room. The conference ran over a weekend - a forum about doctors serving on frontlines - and included a formal dinner. Hence the penguin suit. At least it was more becoming than the old Class A's. He looked over his shoulder one more time before he dismissed the strange feeling when he saw her. He'd recognise that platinum blonde hair anywhere.

She got better every year, or so he thought. He found another wrinkle and whiter hair whenever he looked at a reflective surface. She, in the other hand, was aging well. He smiled when his eyes raked over the long black dress she was wearing. He admired her ability to dress to her figure. He liked that she had chosen to go strapless, with a light shawl to satisfy the modesty of the occasion. To reiterate, she looked excellent. He excused himself and weaved between the mass of well-attired men and women, careful to remain behind her. The butterflies were brewing a hurricane in his chest, but he pressed on. Then, he was there... And now for a witty remark:

''Would you ever dance with a doctor under a chandelier?'' he purred into her ear. He almost didn't finish the rhetorical question before she turned. She seemed surprised but glad to see him.

''Pierce!'' She dazzled him with a grin. They exchanged pleasantries with a kiss on the cheek and a friendly embrace thrown into the mix. How are you? What's changed since the last reunion? His father had passed away eight months ago. She was sorry, and he believed her. She knew how he ardently maintained his connection to his father during the war.

''You look lovely, by the way,'' he regarded her honestly with a gentle touch on her back. Her cheeks flushed and that tight apprehension swelled in his gut again.

''I think we need some air,'' she looked for a door, ''it's getting warm in here.''

He had to agree.

''I think we can sneak out the back,'' he searched for the exit to the garden. He found it. ''Come on.''

He plowed the way through the sea of bodies for her; she should never be expected to excuse her way through all this. God, when did he decide to embrace chivalry?

There was a cool nip outside but nothing too dramatic. She gave him no indication of discomfort so he kept his jacket to himself, though he did unbutton the slightly constricting garment. They'd lucked out and found the terrace with the garden, which was beautifully maintained and decorated. He sighed and leant against the stone railing. She was regarding him curiously.

"What?" He asked with a small grin.

Margaret shook her head but lowered her gaze, "Nothing, really." She looked up again, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Just thinking about… then. You know?"

"Kind of hard to shake." He adjusted his weight when the stone ground into his lower back. "I was thinking the other day about you."

She gave him a lifted eyebrow and he lost his courage.

"I work three days a week at the community doctor's office, down at the cove. Sometimes I get to do some of the baby catching. One of our senior nurses retired and we were looking into replacements."

Good cover. It was true but the thoughts went further than that at the time. She seemed to understand now.

"Sounds nice." There's that smile again. It was almost peaceful and warm, which was the best kind of smile he could get from her. As he remembered well, she had professional composure down to a knack and that smile was never seen. They fell into a pensive silence, both recalling the events of five years prior.

He said nothing when she stepped forwards and leant her elbows on the railing next to him, looking out over the gardens. It was easier if he didn't have to look her in the eye. She let out a content sigh. She really did look good; he figured he'd always admire her.

"Interested?" Plunge officially taken. She turned and narrowed here eyes, but Hawkeye simply looked down to his feet, where one was scraping the dust off the other. Where on Earth did he pick up dust, anyway?

"I mean, I gotta admit, I'd be nice to work with you again," he shrugged. "When it came down to it, we were pretty good together." That was not meant to sound like it had. "And…" further scraping away at dust that was no longer there, "…I missed you."

"I still miss all of you. But we had our own lives and-"

"You know what I mean," he interrupted. He felt bold enough to look at her. "Every day. We spent every day together and now…" He had to look away; his articulation was terrible. "… Now we don't. And I want to. Let's face it, we're getting on in years, but lately I keep thinking that you and I could be… _great_, together."

"It's been five years…" She sounded a bit wounded, but at least she was talking to him. They were so good at not talking.

"And have you moved on?" That caught her off guard.

She hesitated for a moment, until her shoulders slumped. "No. But I'm not moving on from anything. We said our goodbyes in Korea. If anything I'm trying to pick up my life and make the best of it."

He had to chuckle, which brought a frown to her brow.

"What?"

"We never said goodbye. A 'so long', a little 'see ya'. I mean, it was goodbye, but we never said it." Semantics, sure, but she was about ready to take a scalpel to his feelings, so why not retreat to the tried and true sanctuary of terrible humour?

"Hawkeye…"

Now _that_ hurt. His father had reverted to calling him Ben when he'd arrived home. 'Hawkeye' was his name before that horrible experience and one of the ways he kept that connection to home during it. Like Winchesters love of music, it only became a painful reminder. Some things are best left over there, and other should be brought back.

"Do you even remember my name?" It was actually painful to ask such a question. Was he still that juvenile, but brilliant delinquent in her eyes?

"Of course, I do. Benjamin Franklin Pierce."

He regarded her again, but struggled to find any signs of rejection in her features.

"I don't want to say goodbye," He shook his head; "I'd like to say hello to you tomorrow, and the next day. You get the idea." He lowered his head till his chin pressed into his collarbone. "You're right: it's been five years. We... I guess there is no 'we', is there. There was you and I." With a gentle push, Ben stood up and thrust his hands into his pockets.

"I took me a long time to work it out, but you were real. As real as it gets."

He took one step away from her, ready to go back to the part, when he hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back over his shoulder, much as he had done earlier. Her eyes were serious and seemed to be carefully scrutinizing him.

"Do you know what you're asking me?"

"Isn't it amazing that I'm asking at all?"

She took a moment, her hand still hooked on his elbow. "I'm not ready to say goodbye. I don't want to be."

Oh?

"Don't suppose you're willing to put up with me for the next twenty or thirty years?

"I did in Korea. I'm sure we'll survive Crab-Apple Cove." She gave him that smile again and his spirits instantly lifted. Events only went this well in his dreams. Honestly, when he first saw her here, he had no intention of offering himself to her, but it seemed fate had a plan for them. However insane and dramatic it may be.

He couldn't hold back the beaming grin and opened his arms to her. She came willingly and he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. This was almost surreal. He had no idea what was going to happen between now and their timely demises. Heck, he didn't have a clue what would happen when they went back to the cove, or even back to the conference. All he knew was that Hell gave him a sweet taste of Heaven and being the occasionally selfish bastard he was, he was going to take it.

**~ FIN ~**

**Done! And if any of my Gate fans are reading, relax, I'm coming back. This was a pleasant way to break down my mental block. And I loved this show :) Feedback? Yes please.**


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